Remember Me?
by bookworm835
Summary: He'd look her in the eye when no one else did and she'd see LOVE. He loved her. He took care of her. He died for her. Yet she knows she can't trust him... because she loves him. CC, Claire's POV


**Title:** Remember Me?  
**Author:** bookworm835  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Category:** Angst/Romance  
**Summary:** He'd look her in the eye when no one else did and she'd see LOVE. He loved her. He took care of her. He died for her. Yet she knows she can't trust him... because she loves him. CC, Claire's POV  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Lost and I am making absolutely NO money... but I'm sure you all already know that... I just don't want to get my ass sued... heh. Seriously, has anyone here on FF ever got sued? Uh, anyway, if not I don't want to be the first. :) LOL.  
**A/N:** Not much to say except... DRAMA ALERT. Yes, I know I categorized this as angst/romance but if I could choose three the third one would be drama. Very dramatic... but in an angsty way, so I called it that. Oh, and this is mostly based on stuff that happened from the shows but it has a few scenes that I made up too. Ummm, so... yeah. Enjoy and please please PLEASE review!

* * *

When she first saw him, she had wanted to keep herself and her unborn baby as far away from him as possible. She already believed in astrology and phychic phenomenon make that _had_ believed in phsychic phenomenon. She didn't believe in psychics anymore; she stopped believing after one's 'vision' almost killed her. But that was a different story. Yet, there was something... odd about **him**.

He had a dark, guilty aura that hung around wherever he went. He twitched constantly, tapped his fingers anxiously against his leg, a rock, nearby tree, anything, and his murky olive-blue eyes showed pain shut away and hidden from outsiders. But he couldn't hide his sorrow from HER. Shallow, skin-deep smiles and masks of cheerful, bumbling, clumsy sweetness didn't fool HER.

Even if he _did_ get her imaginary peanut butter.

And, as they grew to know each other, every day he showed her a bit more of his true life, his vulnerable, uncovered soul. He began to trust her, above all of the four dozen others, but he was still fearful. She was too. She didn't want to be hurt again.

Because Claire loved Charlie.

-

It had been a hot day when she first met him. She had been standing alone, staring out at the turqoise sea, when she collapsed on the beach. Charlie and the black man Michael had taken her back to camp and set her down in a cool tent. Kate gently woke her but Claire sensed the most concern coming from the young, scruffy, shortish man in the corner. Those cloudy, grayish blue eyes remained fixed to hers, unblinking. She felt fear from Michael and Kate but not from Charlie. For once she was more than "that pregnant girl."

Later, he came back with a small teacup of water.

"It's not much but it's what we have," he explained. "There'd be more if some git hadn't nicked it."

She thanked him, sipping her drink. She looked over her cup as he drank his. She couldn't help but stare. He _seemed_ very sweet and caring... but something was wrong with him, Claire knew. Something was wrong with him. Or maybe something was just wrong with her. She was good at messing with her own mind. She tried to convince herself that she was just being paranoid. So she believed just that. Besides... he looked her in the eye. She was more than "that pregnant girl" and he thought so too!

Ever since that day her heart would skip a beat every time he came by. She still sensed the guilt that hung around his shaggy blond head but she dismissed the thought. After all, she was just being paranoid.

-

She watched him every day since then. She grew worried when he began to look sicker and sicker. He'd strum his guitar and look slightly happier. Whenever he was playing his music his aura was brighter. He usually was found around the caves but when he played by the beach she listened. He was amazingly skilled but his songs didn't lull Claire to sleep. His songs told stories. They helped Claire understand... helped, but didn't tell entirely. It was rather frustrating. Nonetheless, she loved the small smile he'd have on whenever he'd thrum out a tune.

One day she heard a mighty crash and then Charlie came running out from the trees, his face grimy with dirt and dust. He looked guiltier than ever. He hastily informed Michael and Boone that there was a cave-in and Jack was trapped. Claire had the feeling that he was leaving out some details. She grew worried when Shannon told her that Charlie had gone in after Jack. What if he died? She'd be alone again, her and her unborn, nameless baby. And she'd go back to the beginning and become "that pregnant girl" again.

Surprisingly, she didn't greet him when he came back shaken, but unharmed. Jack had a dislocated shoulder but otherwise Charlie had saved him too.

His face was ill. He was sweating and shivering at the same time. His eyes were lined with red. Saving Jack had been a small victory. In fact, Claire decided that Charlie had redeemed himself more than saved Jack. But then why did he look so miserable?

Later that night, sometime after midnight when everyone else was asleep, she sleepily tottered off into the jungle to go to the bathroom. It was then when she saw him stagger deliriously through the jungle. She jumped behind some trees, wondering if she should instead go help him. He fell onto his knees, doubled up and vomited. Claire thought it'd be best to get Jack. Yet... she didn't.

He rocked back and forth, humming to himself (Claire was sure she had heard these songs on the radio on the hits top ten station when she was still in Sydney), his eyes fluttering open and shut. Fear and pity rung Claire's heart. She was about to seriously retrieve Jack when he began to mutter. Pricking up her ears, she tried to hear what he was saying.

"_Bless me, Father, for I have sinned..._"

And she realized that he was praying.

"_Please... forgive me... I have not spoken with you for years. But now I beg for your forgiveness... forgive me... and look after the others, especially her. I don't care what happens to me. I already feel like I'm about to die. But keep her safe, keep her safe... forgive me... just keep her safe. I'd do anything for her. I'd die for her, honestly I would. Until then... I'll look after her. But I can't watch her on my own. Help me look after her, keep her safe, her and her baby..._"

And she realised that he was praying for _her_.

-

Eventually, he got better. Claire betted that he had been so feverish that night that he had forgotten all about his prayer. So she forgot too. She forced herself. She was good at messing with her own mind. She convinced herself that it had all been a dream.

As Claire reread her diary, she found that each page was becoming littered with Charlie's name. She sucked the tip of her pen and scribbled down a bit more about him when he, in person, walked up to her, holding some more water. She smiled and accepted the cup. He grinned at her, the dark lines around his eyes gone. He told her that he was worried about her, sitting in the sun every day.

She adjusted her sun hat.

"Thus, my hat," she said, though she was flattered by his concern.

He asked her to come back with him to the caves. She told him that she liked the beach. She wanted to add that she liked the beach almost as much as she liked him. Yet... she didn't. She wanted to be there when they were rescued. He nodded disbelievingly and disappointedly.

She was pleased when he came back and helped her with laundry. He was persistent on her coming with him. And she loved that. She told him of things she missed. She giggled when he had repeatedly told her how he longed for pie. She admitted that she craved peanut butter. His eyes lit up.

"I could get you peanut butter."

She giggled more and rolled her eyes. "Sure you can."

His smile stretched from ear to goofy ear. "Yes, I can. And when I get you peanut butter you have to vacate this sandy shore of depression and move to the caves." His murky eyes seemed bluer and they sparkled. "Deal?"

How could Claire say no to _that _face?

"Deal."

Claire frantically scribbled more into her diary, smirking.

The next day, Claire woke to find Charlie rummaging through her things, folding them carefully yet clumsily and setting them in a duffel bag. She asked what he was doing. He was packing her things, getting her ready to move.

"You didn't. Peanut butter? No way!" she exclaimed, laughing.

"Just like you ordered," he said, reaching into his bag. He pulled out a mason jar. "Oh, there is one thing." He paused, frowning slightly, then he sighed and said quietly, "It's extra smooth."

She immediately told him that it was alright.

He unscrewed the lid. Claire peered inside and her smile faded. "It's empty," she said.

Blinking innocently as if he was politely bewildered, he said, "What? No, no it's not. It's full full to the brim, with stick-to-the-roof-of-your-mouth, oh _God_ makes-you-want-a-glass-of-milk, extra smooth. It's the best bloody peanut butter I've ever tasted."

She stared, her mouth slightly open as he twirled his finger around inside. Then he brought his clean finger up to his lips and sucked it for a while, making quite a scene. He sighed heavenly. He glanced up at Claire. "You want some?" he asked, acting like it was an afterthought.

Smiling widely, Claire had uncertainly imitated Charlie, twisting her finger inside the empty jar. He watched her eagerly as she licked her finger, giggling and blushing, feeling foolish as he approvingly snickered back.

Claire was in love with a bloody rock god.

-

It had been a while since Charlie had spoken to Claire so she had gotten a good while to think about it all... and that was not always a good thing. Thinking back on it all, she remembered Thomas and how perfect he had seemed. She began to wonder whether Charlie was like all the others on the island treating her like an item, only using her to make themselves look like a selfless hero. Maybe that was the darkness around him. And the more she watched him, the more he seemed like Thomas, so sweet and caring, nervous but lovable nonetheless. But things would go downhill once commitment was pulled into the picture. If she mentioned the word "partner" once she knew he'd get off running. Still, it hurt. It hurt that her kind, endearing Charlie was a fraud.

That night she had the dream.

Locke, with his eerie black and white eyes, told her things that made her shudder. And when she found the crib and searched through the ragged blankets, she found nothing but a deep pool of reddish-black, thick, sticky, human blood. Baby's blood. HER baby's blood.

She woke up screaming, Charlie trying to steady her, fear finally present in those big blue-gray eyes eyes like the sea in a storm; beautiful but brokened and hurt from cold, rough weather. He shouted her name over her frantic shrieks, his eyebrows raised with worry.

"It's alright," he told her gently when she had finally quieted. She gasped for breath. "Hey, hey, you were dreaming. You were only sleep walking, alright?"

Slowly, he looked downwards, holding her wrists. He turned her shaking hands over. They were drenched in her baby's blood. Charlie's eyes widened. "Claire, what happened?"

It was then when she began to sob. Desperate, pain-filled tears streaked her cheeks and once just this once let herself sink into Charlie's chest, crying softly as the whole camp surrounded her. She ignored them, forgot them, convinced herself that they weren't there. She convinced herself that there was only Charlie and her, only him and her, only them. She forgot about Thomas, about Charlie's darkness, about Locke's peculiar eyes. She knew only her own sadness and the comforting arms that enveloped her. She was in the bottom of the sea with Charlie, drowning without water, suffocating without oxygen. She couldn't breathe and the blood was dripping down her palms across her wrists and down her arms but none of it mattered, she was alone and she needed to get all the pain out.

"Claire!"

Suddenly, she was yanked back into reality as Jack gently pulled her from Charlie's arms. "Claire, you alright?"

In truth, Claire had been fine until she had remembered what had all been happening. If only she could forget it all again.

-

After being quizzed by Jack for the millionth time, Claire decided to seek solitude in the jungle, only her and her diary this time, but of course Charlie wasn't going to let her be after that mess.

He tried to amuse her with bad, corny humor.

"Mmm, I have this dream... I'm driving a bus and my teeth start falling out. My mum is in the back eating biscuits. Everything smells of bacon." He looked rather serious. "It's weird," he concluded. "Of course, I don't wake up screaming."

Claire forced a smile. "I'm alright, Charlie," she lied in a small, wavering voice.

"No, of course you are," he said gently. Taking a deep breath, he mumbled, "It's just... I think about you... in this place... how hard it must be for you without your family and your friends. And I think... we could be friends." He swallowed nervously. "I could be your friend."

A million thoughts soared through Claire's mind, sending her head spinning. The smile dropped from her face as she remembered Thomas, how he had used her then dropped her. It might've been better if he had dumped her right away but no, he had to build her hopes. He said he could 'do this' but he could never do _anything _but _hurt_. He had told her that he had _loved her_. Now, here was Charlie, doing the same thing.

Seeing the look of dismay on her face, Charlie recklessly went on. "W-we don't have to do each other's hair or anything... I just mean that... if you needed someone to talk to about... anything..." There was a long pause. His serious face looked much more serious now. "...I'm here," he ended, looking up with sweet, caring, cloud-coloured eyes. But there was still that darkness...

"Charlie..." she murmured, looking away with a shameful face. She felt awful... but she'd feel worse if she let another man use her.

His face fell and he quickly looked away as well. "Okay," he muttered, trying to sound as cheerful as possible as he got up to leave. Claire could _feel_ the absolute humiliation and misery that hung around his head and shadowed his features like a veil.

"I I didn't mean that," she stammered, wondering if bastards could look so disappointed about being let down.

He shook his head and interupted her. "It's cool, Claire, it's cool," he said, trying to hide his bitter tone. By the look on his face Claire could tell that he had had girlfriend issues before too. This island was a place to start over, to begin a new life. Maybe he had started over. Maybe it wasn't too late for _her_ to start over.

But as he sulked off, his head hanging low, Claire decided that it w_as_ too late. His darkness followed like a rain cloud, pouring sheets of sadness down upon him. And, the further from the him and his rain cloud, the further she was from raining sadness.

-

Charlie had still tried to appease her, wrapping warm, soft blankets 'round her shoulders, forcing half-hearted smiles, believing her when no one else would. She wouldn't let him get inside her heart, though. No, she was going to stay dry, she was going to stay out of the rain. No matter how much she loved him...

-

Finally, Claire cracked. Jack gave her "mild" sleeping pills _sleeping pills_, for God's sake and Claire stormed off with her things to go back to her original spot at the beach. Nothing but trouble had come to her from moving to the caves.

But that little rain cloud kept following her around...

He called her name but she didn't stop or even slow down. But it didn't take much to catch up to a pissed off pregnant girl, as Claire realised, as Charlie bounded up to her, plastering on another forced smile. Concern glowed in his eyes. "Hi," he said plainly. "Where are you going?"

Scowling, Claire huffed, "Back to the beach."

An alarmed expression crossed Charlie's face. "What happened? Did Jack "

"Jack tried to dope me," she said bluntly, her voice raised. "He thinks I'm making all this up, that none of it really happened."

Charlie furrowed his brow. "Right. So... to prove your sanity you go tromping through the jungle alone. Well done."

Claire felt her anger mounting.

"I'm not crazy, Charlie."

After a long moment of silence, the two walked on. Then Charlie said earnestly, "Please let me carry your bag."

She shook her head and insisted that she was fine. Anyhow, she didn't need a man to take care of her. She was perfectly well on her own.

"I know you're fine," he said, "but I can still carry your bag."

Rolling her eyes, Claire asked exasperatedly, "Why did you come after me?" She hid the tears that were stinging her eyes.

Charlie chewed his lip. "Well, it's probably because I like you."

The tears were beginning to streak Claire's cheeks.

"What?" Charlie asked immediately, alarmed.

Glaring, Claire snapped, "You don't like me, Charlie, okay? You just want to rescue me because... beacause of this!" She jabbed her finger at her swollen belly. "I don't need rescuing," she said coldly. "I don't need " A sudden jolt of pain seared through her stomach before she could say 'you'. Maybe it was good that she hadn't had a chance to say it. It would've made her feel rather guilty later.

Ignoring her angry response, Charlie mumbled out a quick stream of clumsy words. "Whoa... Claire, what is it? Claire... what what is it?" He tried his best to comfort her but she pushed him away the second she felt his calloused fingers on her arm.

She moaned and doubled over.

"Is that another one?" he pressed urgently, his puppy-like eyes wide and fearful.

"Yeah," she muttered, her frustration not quite completely forgotten.

He blinked, flustered. "Okay." He took a deep breath. "We need to time the contractions. That's what you do, time the contractions... okay." Sucking in another breath, he counted ridiculously, "One sugar plum fairy, two sugar plum fairy "

"Charlie," Claire groaned through gritted teeth. It wasn't making her feel any better... if only he'd _shut up._

"You just need to calm down, alright?" he asked in a high-pitched, panicked voice. "Big, deep breaths." He gasped for his own breath, hyperventilating. He did his best to slow his own breathing. His eyes went back and he stumbled back a step, unbalanced and dizzy. "Oh, bloody hell..."

Claire had shaken her head, shutting her eyes tight. "Charlie, I need you to go get Jack."

Knitting his brow, he said, "What?"

"I'll be alright," she lied. She had never felt more scared in her life.

He grasped her arm again gently, his other hand snaking around her waist. "I'm not leaving you alone... I can deliver a baby. I I can do this. This must happen all the time..."

"Charlie," Claire grumbled, "please just _go_. You don't know how to deliver a "

He held up his hand to silence her. "Just listen to me," he commanded gently, his eyes still wide and terrified. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you. I might not know what I'm doing but I'll figure it out. If I can kick drugs I can deliver a baby."

Her eyes shot open wide and she looked up at him, backing away a bit. He sucked in another breath.

"Let me explain," he stammered hurriedly. "I'm a drug addict. I _was_ a drug addict. I'm clean now."

He still wasn't making her feel any damn better whatsoever.

"_Get Jack._"

He frowned. "Right." Then he took off running.

She stood there for what seemed like ages, trying to concentrate on other things besides the pain. Even thinking about Charlie would be better than thinking about the hurt. Of course, Charlie was a hurt of another kind...

Finally, Claire heard her name shouted.

"I'm here," she called back.

"Claire, okay, Jack's coming. How are you doing?"

She tried to put aside her pride, her stubbornness. "It hurts," she murmured.

His voice quieting and sweetening, Charlie said hoarsely, "Okay, just take my hand." She did. "Squeeze." She did. Hard, too. "Okay, breathe. Inhale, exhale... Good, just breathe. Inhale... okay, good."

He rubbed her back soothingly.

"I'm not supposed to be here," she said, close to tears again.

He cracked a small smile. "I think we all feel like that a little bit."

"I know, it's just... someone promised me it would be different." Some psychic he had been.

"Well, he was wrong," Charlie said simply.

Claire sighed. "Yeah. He was wrong."

She explained everything to him: Thomas, Malkin, adoption... everything. She felt rather embarrassed now, telling Charlie that she had seen a _psychic._ He shook his head understandingly.

"Or not. I mean, all he wanted was that no one else raise your baby, right? Maybe he knew. I mean, if he wanted it bad enough. If he had the gift, and I believe some people do, maybe he knew, Claire."

Claire sighed again, trying to keep her breathing even.

"You feel another one coming?" Charlie asked concernedly.

"I don't think so..."

Glancing around, Charlie muttered, "Where the hell is Jack?"

Claire staggered to her feet. She felt a bit lightheaded at first but it passed. "You know," she said, "I think... I think I'm alright."

"The contractions ?"

She shrugged. "Maybe it was the last one," she reasoned. "_Please_ let it be the last one..."

Charlie looked a bit ashamed of himself. "Jack said that stress can cause false labor. You sure you're alright?"

Rubbing her belly, she smiled for the first time in what felt like years. "No pain," she confirmed.

He grinned back. "Birthing emergency averted. I told you I'd take care of you..."

And even though her mind was screaming no, Claire murmured, "Thanks, Charlie."

"You're quite welcome. You think you can make it back to the caves?" Claire's worries came creeping back. "I won't let anything happen to you," he promised sincerely.

Thinking for only about a moment more, she said, "Okay... let's go."

After walking along in silence for a good whl longer, Claire suddenly gasped and her arms shot out and grabbed her stomach. Charlie immediately was on her, asking if she was okay.

Claire nodded. She smiled again. "Yeah... yeah. Look, he just kicked here." She grasped his wrist and pulled him over. Pressing his palm to her abdomen, she felt another kick and watched as Charlie beamed, his eyes lighting up in absolute glee. She heard him breathe out a soft, "Wow..."

"Hello, there."

Charlie and Claire's heads snapped up. A rather small man (he wasn't much different in size from Charlie) with dark hair and a darker aura drifted silently towards them and stopped a few feet away, his face stern.

"Ethan," Charlie said in a slightly raised voice, wrapping his arm protectively around Claire's narrow shoulders, "where's Jack?"

Ethan smiled.

Then he leapt at Charlie, pulling a knife that had been hidden behind his back in his belt under his shirt.

Claire screamed. "CHARLIE, MOVE!"

Charlie first hesitantly shoved Claire out of the way, going half-way between gentle and urgent, so that he didn't have time to brace himself before Ethan bowled him over.

Toppling over onto her side, Claire struggled to regain her footing but she was tired, panicked, and extremely pregnant. She backed up against a tree and stayed there, watching Charlie punch Ethan in the nose with all his might.

Ethan rolled back, howling in frustration, his nose bleeding freely. Charlie scurried back on his hands and knees, inching towards Claire. "DAMMIT!" Ethan yelled. "GET BACK HERE!"

Ethan ran over and kicked Charlie in the stomach. Winded, Charlie flew sideways, coughing. Ethan planted his foot on Charlie's chest as Charlie lay in the mud. Ethan grinned and pressed the tip of his knife just below Charlie's jaw, forcing his chin upwards, leaving his soft white neck exposed. Charlie swallowed.

Claire whimpered. "Leave him alone!" she sobbed, hysterical tears dropping from blue eyes to mix with cold sweat. "Please... don't hurt him... please!"

Swallowing again, Charlie mumbled incoherently, "No, no, whatever, hurt me, but don't hurt her... What...? How...? Just leave her be..."

Ethan, running the cool steel across Charlie's throat gently, said, "Well, well. Seems we've come to a crossroads, eh? I could kill you now... or use you hostage. Which would you prefer?"

"Bloody bastard," muttered Charlie.

Claire tugged her way up the tree trunk, her cries quieting slightly. "Don't hurt him," she repeated shakily.

Nodding, Ethan agreed. "Right. Hostage it is. More useful to me as a threat to your little friends than a mess of blood and chopped up flesh anyhow. After all, it'd only attract the polar bears."

Claire shuddered, trying to force the image away trying to force the look of Charlie lying on his back in the middle of the cold, dark jungle, his gray-blue eyes fixed open forever; a look of terror on his face; his body torn awfully; what was left of his skin, pale.

"Just don't hurt him," she sobbed.

Ethan moved off of Charlie and leaned over to pick up a large, slightly rounded rock. Charlie jumped to his feet, rubbing his neck gingerly. He took a few careful steps towards Claire. She was crying uncontrollably again. "It's alright, Claire... shh, you okay? 'Cause I'm okay. See, everything's right as rain."

Claire looked up. He smiled nervously. She looked behind him. Ethan raised the rock high above his head.

"LOOK OUT, CHARLIE "

Charlie's eyes widened. He could barely turn sixty degrees before the rock came slamming down hard on his head. Charlie's knees buckled and he crumpled down to the ground. Claire shrieked.

"YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T HURT HIM!"

He smiled. "Oh, how foolish of me... I must've forgotten." He raised the stone again and Claire gasped. Then everything went black.

-

When Claire had opened her eyes, she found that she was tied with her back to a tree. She groggily looked up and saw Charlie lying on his side in the middle of a jungle clearing, his eyes flickering underneath their lids. Ethan was working behind him, tugging on a few vines that were attached to the treetops, then he had begun to tie an odd looped knot into a thick, rope-like vine.

Claire blinked. It was unpleasantly hot and sticky. Her thick hair was stuck to her face and neck. She shook it away and whispered hoarsely, "Charlie? Charlie... wake up..."

Ethan looked over and smiled. "Awake?" he asked simply.

Claire ignored him. "Charlie, it's Claire... wake up... please wake up..."

If only Charlie would come to his senses they could escape... he wasn't bound in any way, unlike Claire, whose ankles and wrists were bound and her shoulders were tied back against the thick-trunked tree.

Ethan grinned wider, yanking on the loop. "He's drugged," he explained. "Won't be waking up for a long, long, _long_ time." He let the loop dangle and walked over to Charlie. He kicked Charlie in the stomach and Charlie groaned but kept his eyes closed.

"Stop!" Claire yelled. "Don't touch him! Don't don't "

Suddenly, Ethan leaned over and hauled Charlie up. He dragged him over towards the loop...

Claire choked out, "What are you doing?" Her throat was dry. As loudly as possible she screamed for help. "JACK! JACK, KATE, SOMEBODY HELP!" But no help came.

Charlie mumbled something incoherently, his head lolling on his shoulders. Ethan pulled a dirty, black rag from his back pocket and tied it around Charlie's eyes. Claire struggled weakly. "What are you doing?" she asked loudly as Ethan wrapped the vines around Charlie's neck. Claire realised that the vines were a _noose_.

"NO!"

Ethan grinned and walked back around the tree. A vine hung down in front of his face. He grabbed it in both hands, smirking.

"NO, PLEASE DON'T! ANYTHING, JUST DON'T HURT HIM I'LL DO ANYTHING! ANYTHING!"

"Say good-bye to your lover, Claire," Ethan said in a low voice. Then, with a grunt, he yanked on the vine and Charlie was lifted up into the air, climbing higher, higher, until finally he stopped rising. And then his legs began to kick.

"CHARLIE?"

His legs thrashed harder. His hands shot up and his fingers clawed frantically at his throat as he choked, gasping for air, making horrible, blood-curlding sounds from deep in his throat.

"CHARLIE, IT'S ME! IT'S CLAIRE!"

It was horrible. Absolutely horrible. She had never seen anything more terrible than her love dying... nothing... ever.

"DON'T GIVE UP, CHARLIE! I'LL SAVE YOU! I'M SORRY FOR EVERYTHING... JUST DON'T GIVE UP!"

But it wasn't working. Charlie's gaping mouth moved open and closed like a fish's and his arms were beginning to shake violently. The kicking of his feet grew weaker and weaker until it became almost nonexistent.

"NOOOOOO! _CHAAAAARLIIIIIIIIIE!_"

Charlie's arms dropped and he dangled limply. He had stopped moving completely, except for the gentle swinging in the wind, the vines creaking. Tears fell silently down Claire's face, mixing with the sweat and rain.

"Charlie... no... I love you..."

And Claire let the horror envelop her as she closed her eyes. She couldn't take it, she _wouldn't_ take it... and she decided then that, no matter how much she loved him, she couldn't trust him... because, no matter what happened, the people she loved would always hurt her in the end... so she decided to make herself forget.

Everything began to fade...

The plane crash, the fire, the fear, the beach, the cave-in, the laundry, the prayer... and peanut butter faded last of all, though it didn't fade entirely... because sometimes it was hard to forget what you once held most dear. But she couldn't remember it, because she didn't want to remember how Charlie had caused her so much pain. So she forced herself to forget.

She was good at messing with her own mind.

* * *

**"Seems we've come to a crossroads, eh?" LOL. I just couldn't help but have the Canadian say 'eh'. :) Anyways, sorry for any/all typos, and REVIEW! As stupid as the ending was... even a little tiny note will do! I would be pleased with a simple "ok". Not that I'm encouraging people to write a two-letter response... Pleeeeeease please pretty please review!**


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